


Love, Actually

by thegoldhopeful



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6216577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoldhopeful/pseuds/thegoldhopeful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo Tetsurou is tired of being dragged around on his friend's dates, until Bokuto invites a teammate to join them. Things start getting better, or maybe worse, when Tetsurou falls hard for their new companion. Because love, actually is all around.</p>
<p>A story of the terrible agony of being in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, Actually

**Author's Note:**

> For Sienna at thatshortangryperson.tumblr.com
> 
> First off I would like to apologize, because the prompts were great, but then I got... carried away...  
> So this doesn't really do a good job of fulfilling any of them, but I do hope you enjoy it.  
> This was also inspired, a bit, by my favourite romcom.
> 
> Also, this takes place a year before the canon timeline, so Kuroo and Bokuto are second years, Kenma and Akaashi are first years.  
> I took some creative license with the passage of the seasons.
> 
> Thank you to [Linda](http://mercuryandglass.tumblr.com/) and [Joan](http://anocturnalmorningperson.tumblr.com/) for editing!

If he was going to be totally honest about it, the whole situation was really Tetsurou’s fault in the first place. After all, he was the one who actually introduced Kenma to Bokuto at the beginning of his second year. Well, to be fair, no one had  expected those two to hit it off so well. They were complete opposites, but they did complement each other a bit, he guessed. Kenma was always somehow able to get Bokuto to calm down, to breathe quietly, and Tetsurou had never seen Kenma smile so often as when he was with Bokuto.

Anyway.

Being arguably  the best matchmaker in the world did have its consequences,well, consequences other than the continued gratitude of his two best friends. The first was being dragged around on group expeditions that he was always assured  would not be dates, but somehow always turned into him awkwardly loitering near the exit of whatever concert/bar/indie terrarium shop (he still wonders how Bo found out about that particular destination) they were visiting and trying not to spoil the moment. Or resisting the urge to _also_ hold hands with one or both of the couple.

He wasn’t bitter. Kenma was his best friend and Bo was, well, his other best friend, and seeing them happy made him happy. He wasn’t so cold hearted as to take it personally, but it was still a bit… awkward.

The other major consequence was called Akaashi Keiji. 

They had met in summer, more precisely, the last week of the summer holiday. Tetsurou remembered very distinctly the oily heat of the inner city and the smell of car fumes, always strongest at that time. These last weeks also heralded the beginning of the  festival season, and festival season meant food, music, and an excuse to escape the sweltering house for the relative coolness of the night. Additionally, it was an acceptable excuse to eat his own weight in cheap street food. However, mooching around Tokyo at night is no fun on your own, so he’d texted Kenma, who’d texted Bokuto, who’d called him back no more than ten minutes later to enthusiastically confirm the plan.

Bokuto had called him a second time around lunchtime the day of the date (the bro-date, as Bokuto always called it). Tetsurou had been trying to do his summer homework, which he’d, very predictably, left to the last minute. His phone buzzed mechanically against the wooden table, the sound reaching Tetsurou’s ears like the drone of a tiny motorcycle. “Who is it?” The heat always made him grumpy.

“Dude, it’s me,” Bokuto’s was made tinny by the static of the phone.

Tetsurou sighed and put down his pencil for maybe the hundredth time, “What’s up?”

“So you know the thing you, me, and Kenma planned this evening?”

“Yeah, the festival. Did you forget the meeting place again?” The last time Bokuto had forgotten where to meet the other two, it had sent Kenma into a nervous sort of frenzy for the half hour it took Bo to wander to their location.

“Nope,” Bokuto said triumphantly, his raised voice cracking with static, but it quickly dropped back to normal, “there’s just… well, one of my kouhai…” He kept stopping and restarting his sentences, as if he couldn’t quite find the right words. Tetsurou could see him pacing about and running his rough hands through his overly styled hair.

“Bo, chill,” Tetsurou reassured him, “it’s alright.”

“Well I kinda invited him to come with us, and I should’ve asked you because it’s your thing,” Bokuto splutters out all at once.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Tetsurou asked, more incredulously than he’d intended. Bokuto overthought things, or he didn’t think about them at all, he knew that, but even so…

“He’s a really nice guy and he’s really smart and cool and I’m sure you’d like him if you met,” Bokuto babbled on the other end of the line, and Tetsurou cut him off.

“Wait… Are you trying to set us up? Bo you cunning bastard.”

“No, no, no that’s not it,” Bokuto responded hurriedly, “I’m not entirely sure if he’s interested in people at all.”

“Then why are you so worried?” Tetsurou asked.

The line was quiet for a couple of moments before Bokuto spoke, voice quiet. “Will you keep it a secret?” he asked nervously.

“Of course,” Tetsurou said happily, “Christ Bo, spill already." 

“I, uh, got Kenma a present and Akaashi was there–”

“Wait,” Tetsurou interrupted, “who’s Akaashi?”

“This other guy that’s coming,” Bokuto said distractedly, before continuing, “and he said he’d really want to meet the sort of guy who’d like that sort of thing, and I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not so I asked him if he wanted to come tonight but then I forgot that you organized this, and it was sort of your thing in the first place, and–”

Tetsurou cut him off again, “That’s fine, dude, I’m sure this Akaashi guy is cool, and I think you have okay taste in people.” He waggled his eyebrows at the phone, momentarily forgetting Bokuto couldn’t see him.

“Bro thanks!” Bokuto said, sounding much happier.

“Hey I’m not done,” Tetsurou added quickly, guessing his friend was about to hang up (one of Bokuto’s bad habits). “You may have good taste in people, but I still question your taste in everything else.”

“That sweater is so cool,” Bokuto began. The sweater in question, a monstrous neon green and pink hoodie, had been a point of contention ever since its purchase.

“What did you get for Kenma?” Kuroo cut to the chase, silencing his friend, “Because if it’s a video game, trust me, he’s either already got it or doesn’t want it.”

Bokuto muttered something inaudible through the static but it sounded suspiciously like a complaint.

“What was that?” Tetsurou asked.

“I said, ‘I know _that_ ,’” Bokuto replied, slightly sulkily, “and I, uh, I got him a bento, because it was cute and had cats on it.”

Hopelessly romantic, Kuroo thought, all his friends were hopelessly romantic. He just knew Kenma would love that sort of thing. He would pretend he didn’t, but he would still use it every day.

“Do you think he’ll like it,” Bokuto asked, worriedly.

“Of course he will,” Tetsurou replied, suddenly remembering the homework lying forgotten under one arm, “look dude I’ve got a lot of work to do, so I’ll see you tonight alright.”

“Yeah sure,” Bokuto replied, and hung up.

He sounds distracted, Tetsurou thought to himself, putting the cell phone down and returning to his studies, probably thinking about tonight, about Kenma. _Would I really be worth it_ , he wondered, _to have someone to think about that?_ He shook his head to clear it. _No use getting all caught up in that, better to focus on what I’ve actually got._

As he and Kenma made their way to the venue, Tetsurou started to wish he’d asked Bokuto for more detail about this mysterious friend. It was actually kind of hard to imagine Bokuto with the sort of friend that would good shopping with him. Most of the other Fukurodani second years, or the ones that he knew at least, had heard so much about Bokuto’s relationship already that they refused to listen to any more. It would take a… unique sort of person to go couple shopping with the owlish boy. Would he be like Bokuto? Tetsurou pictured a second Bokuto, only with less terribly dyed hair, but banished the image almost immediately. The quip about wanting to meet Kenma, that was cunning, and at the time probably quite funny (although Bokuto’s ability to catch that sort of humour was limited, and it had probably gone right over his head). It was the sort comment that took a little more than Bokuto’s particular brand of enthusiastic determination to come up with. Tetsurou absentmindedly pulled Kenma out of the way of a signpost, an old habit. Maybe he should have dressed up at bit more. He looked down at his ratty sneakers on the warm pavement; one of them had a hole forming in one side. He couldn’t just go back though; they were almost there. But Bokuto had a habit of always being late…

His thoughts dashed back and forth through his head without reaching any concrete conclusions for the next ten minutes. Then they reached the meeting place.

Surprisingly, Bokuto was already there. He was lounging back against a park bench, complaining about something (Tetsurou could tell he was complaining from the way his hair seemed to droop backwards) to another boy about their age.

The other boy was also seated, but with his back ramrod straight and hands politely folded, as if someone was about to grade him on his posture.  He had very black hair that had been left to curl a bit wildly around his face. He only seemed to be half listening to Bokuto, gazing off into space and responding with only one-word answers. Of course, this didn’t deter Bokuto at all, and the older guy continued to dramatically drape himself over the bench. 

Honestly, Tetsurou hadn’t expected someone so, well, normal. Bokuto was not the type to attract regular people, considering them to be pretty much universally boring, even if he was too good-natured to say it (or perhaps, Tetsurou thought, he hadn’t actually thought about it enough to realize that).  

Bokuto noticed them first, and immediately bounded up to Kenma, lifting the smaller boy clear off the ground and twirling him around. Tetsurou snorted at the display, more for appearances sake than for anything else. Kenma laughed into Bokuto’s spiky hair and gently thumped him on the back. Bokuto didn’t put him down, but swayed off down the sidewalk, twirling wildly like a broken pinwheel but laughing the whole time. That left Tetsurou with the stranger, and they both stared off after the couple in awkward silence for a few moments.

“I’m Akaashi Keiji,” the boy introduced himself, turning to Tetsurou. Caught in his penetrating gaze, it took him a moment to collect himself.

“Errr, Kuroo Tetsurou,” he said, with all the smoothness of a pebble beach, “nice to meet you.” Then when silence stretched out between them again, “sorry about those two, and Bokuto dragging you along, and…” he trailed off, aware he wasn’t making any sense.

Akaashi chuckled quietly, not looking at Tetsurou, “It’s no problem; really, I’m the one who should apologize for imposing on you three.”

“It’s more those two and then me,” Tetsurou admitted, rubbing his head and gazing off at the two others. Bokuto had put Kenma down and draped himself over the smaller boy’s shoulders like some type of muscular shawl. “But it’s not like I’m complaining. It’s good to see Kenma so happy.” 

“Have you known each other long?” Akaashi inquired.

“We grew up together,” Tetsurou said. “He’s like my brother.”

“Ah,” Akaashi said, and when Tetsurou turned to him he saw he was looking at the ground.

“I’m sorry; did I say something wrong?”

“No not at all,” Akaashi said, sounding almost embarrassed. “It’s just-“ he cut himself off and gazed pensively at the ground, rearranging his thoughts. “Well, I only just moved to Tokyo, so I don’t have very many friends here. I asked to come with Bokuto-san so I could meet some new people.”

Tetsurou didn’t have a reply to the surprising candour, but Bokuto saved the moment, barging in boisterously and moving them along.

After that, Akaashi started coming on more and more of the ‘friend dates’ until he was a regular.  Tetsurou was very glad for his company. The younger boy was quiet, though not quite as quiet as Kenma, but he usually said only what was necessary. After a while, Tetsurou became familiar enough with Akaashi’s plain and usually slightly tired face to appreciate even the smallest changes in expression. He learned that Akaashi had at least six annoyed faces, two content ones, three regretful ones (these were almost always directed at Bokuto), and one happy one, reserved almost exclusively for victory celebrations.

Tetsurou was surprised to learn that Kenma and Bokuto didn’t recognize the many variations in Akaashi’s face the same way he did.

“Huh?” Kenma had said, the first time Tetsurou had asked him about it, “No, he just looks tired to me.”

“Really? But-“

Kenma gave him a sharp look, obviously more interested in his DS than the current conversation, so Tetsurou dropped the subject.

In hindsight, that was when real problems started.

Tetsurou had started thinking about Akaashi more and more often. Too often really. Entirely too often.

In math class he’d stare past the quadratic equations crawling across the dusty green chalkboard to mentally conjured images of Akaashi’s face. The excited twinkle in his eye when he was truly enjoying himself,the satisfied half-smile after he’d eaten,his rare and precious smiles.

There was more of course. Tetsurou often wondered how it would feel to hold Akaashi’s hand. Would it be calloused from hours of volleyball practise, or smooth? Would he have a tight grip, or a loose one?

But it wasn’t a crush.

It couldn’t be a crush, he’d thought, he didn’t like Akaashi as anymore than a friend, a pal. Dating him would be like dating… dating Bokuto. The argument wasn’t particularly persuasive, and Tetsurou found himself blanking out in class more and more often, thinking of Akaashi’s eyes, his messy hair, his rare smiles. Would his lips feel– He cut the thought off. This was serious.

He called Bokuto.

“We have a problem.”

“Bro, what?” Tetsurou held the cell phone away from his face. Bokuto had enough trouble keeping his voice at an acceptable level when they spoke face to face; over the phone, he was absolutely hopeless.

“We need to talk. Is Akaashi there?”

“Sure dude,” Bokuto’s voice became distant as he hollered at someone in the room rather than at the phone, “Akaashi! Kuroo’s askin’ for you.”

At those words Kuroo squeezed the small phone so tightly he heard the plastic squeak, but fortunately, he didn’t break it. Bokuto was simple minded, of course the first thing he’d do if Akaashi was mention would be call over. Tetsurou should have expected it. “No, no,” he hissed, “I don’t need to talk to him. I need to talk to you, privately.”

“Wait Akaashi no, he says he wants to talk to me privately,” The words were fuzzy through the phone, but Bokuto sounded confused.

“Go up to the roof then, Bokuto-san,” The voice was very muffled by phone static, but still recognizably Akaashi’s. Tetsurou’s stomach flopped uncomfortably at the sound of the other boy’s voice, and he clutched the cell phone even more tightly. Through the receiver he could hear the shuffling sounds of Bokuto bounding up the stairs to Fukurodani’s roof, and his heavy breathing once he reached the top.

“Dude, why’d you ask for Akaashi if you wanted to talk to me?”

Tetsurou felt like his grip on the conversation was slipping. “I didn’t ask for him. I asked about him.”

“Isn’t that the same?”

“No, it absolutely is not. If I wanted to talk to him, I would have called _him_ in the first place.”

“Okay,” Bokuto said slowly. It was obvious that he didn’t totally understand but was trying to move the conversation along, “what did you want to talk about." 

“I want to talk about Akaashi,” Tetsurou felt his face burning as he said the words.  

Bokuto still sounded confused, “Sure, man, talk away." 

Tetsurou paused and took a deep breath, then released it and took another.

“You good man?” Bokuto asked.

“I think I like Akaashi, and I don’t know what to do about it,” Tetsurou blurted out. There was a long paused and he could hear the blood pounding through his ears and the wind humming from Bokuto’s side of the phone.

“Like, _like_ like?” Bokuto asked slowly.

“Yes, like gross romantic smooching like,” Tetsurou ran a hand through his messy hair and the rested his face in it.

“This is kinda gay,” Bokuto said.

“It’s very gay Bo,” Tetsurou replied. “Thank you for your insight.”

“This is bad,” Bokuto sounded more pensive than usual.

“It’s very bad,” Tetsurou agreed.

Neither of them said anything for a while. Bokuto was silent on the rooftop; Tetsurou could still dimly hear the sound of the wind over the phone as he tried to calm the flutters of his stomach. His face still felt too hot.

“So,” Bokuto said. Tetsurou had known him long enough to hear his friend returning to characteristic good spirits, “How’re you gonna ask him out then?”

“I can’t ask him out!” Tetsurou almost howled, earning him some glances and dirty looks from passing students. He curled closer into the corner of the stairwell and hissed into the phone, “No way! There is absolutely no fucking way Bo.”

“What? It worked just fine for me,” Bokuto said happily, “all you gotta do is like go up to him, tell him how cool he is, and then say you’d be cooler together.”

“Are you shitting me bro?” Tetsurou asked. “I remember how long it took you to ask Kenma out, and you were absolutely not suave or cool when doing it.”

“What does suave mean?” Bokuto interrupted.

Tetsurou ignored him. “How would I ask him anyway? What if he doesn’t like guys? What if he just doesn’t like _me_? What if he thinks I’m a loser?”

“Dude, he already knows you’re a loser.”

“Hey!”

“What? It’s true.”

“I come to you for advice…” Tetsurou sighed dramatically.

“Hey, fine, what sort of advice to you want?” Bokuto said through the phone. His voice suddenly quieter, he added, “Because I’m probably not the best person to ask about this sort of thing…”

He trailed off and Tetsurou could practically hear him slipping into what Akaashi had started calling his ‘dejected mode.' 

“Dude if I didn’t want your advice I wouldn’t have called you,” he said quickly.

Bokuto let out a sort of noncommittal grunt on the other side of the line, but the danger of a full-on sulk had passed.

“Just,” Tetsurou grasped for words, “do you think… will he… err… do you think he’ll like me?” He blurted out.

“Of course man! Everyone likes you!” Bokuto crowed enthusiastically, completely back to normal. “You’re cool and fun to be around and–“

“No Bo,” Tetsurou cut him off, “would _Akaashi_ like me?”

“Like, _like_ like?” Bokuto asked.

Tetsurou sighed. “We’ve been over this,” he said.

“Okay, serious,” Bokuto said, forcing a solemn tone of voice.

Tetsurou mentally pictured him trying to keep his face twisted into a sober frown, as he always did at these sorts of moments. “Like, how should I ask him? Should I even ask him? You said he might not even like people–“

This time Bokuto cut him off, sounding genuinely sincere, “Do you really like him?”

Tetsurou paused for a moment. He pictured Akaashi’s rather open face, piercing eyes, messy hair. At this, his heart fluttered like a bird, and he felt his face again grow hot. “Yes, I really do,” he replied.

“Then you’re golden, man,” Bokuto said.

* * *

 

“You can put that on my tombstone,” Tetsurou told Kenma on their usual walk home from school two weeks later. Winter had come quickly this year, and the air was already crisp and chilly with the promise of frost. “Here lies Kuroo Tetsurou, unlucky in love as in bedhead. He was fucking golden.” He’d spent most of his free time since his conversation trying to work out a way to confess to Akaashi that would immediately endear the other boy to him and not result in him throwing up in some conveniently placed potted plant from the nerves. So far, and even with Bokuto’s eager help and the somewhat more restrained assistance from Kenma, he still had no ideas.

“So you admit it’s bedhead,” Kenma replied, without looking up from his game.

“Wait– What no!” Tetsurou scrambled, “That’s not the point.”

“There’s a point?” Kenma quipped.

Tetsurou ignored him, “The point is that I am most likely going to die alone because I am a coward, and I can’t even tell the most beautiful man in the world that I like him.”

Kenma didn’t respond so Tetsurou continued, “and you know what Bokuto has to say about it? You know what?” Kenma knew very well what, but Tetsurou wasn’t going to let the chance to complain about it pass him by. “‘You’re golden man,’ he says! What’s that supposed to mean? You’re golden?”

“He’s only trying to be helpful, you know,” Kenma said, somewhat frostily; he didn’t like it when Kuroo insulted his boyfriend (even if, most of the time, the insult was deserved). “Maybe you should spend less time worrying about what Bokuto says and more on what you’re going to do.” After this impromptu speech, he fell silent.

Kenma’s words were as cryptic as usual, but Tetsurou had a lifetime of experience in deciphering them. He also had enough experience to know that when Kenma did choose to give advice, it was advice worth following. But ‘focus more on what you’re going to do’? What was that supposed to mean?

They finished the walk in silence, save for the sound of the quiet beeping of Kenma’s game.

When they reached his house, Tetsurou was no clearer on Kenma’s meaning that he had been before. And, well, it bugged him. He felt as if understanding was just scratching at the edge of his consciousness, but he couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Hey, uuh, Kenma?” He asked, and Kenma turned to look at him, his strangely cat-like eyes making Tetsurou squirm for some reason. “What you said earlier… What did you mean by that?”

Kenma blinked once, slowly, at that, and then seemed to realize what Tetsurou meant. “Ah. What I was saying was that you’re so preoccupied with coming up with something perfect, uhhh,” he stalled, casting about for words, “and maybe you should just do it.”

“Just do it?” Tetsurou asked.

Kenma fiddled nervously with his game, “Yeah, like, just say it.”

Tetsurou expected him to continue, but he didn’t, so he waved goodbye, pondering the words.

Kenma’s words kept running through his head for the most part of that evening. What could he mean? What could he possibly mean? More to the point, what did Kenma really know about confessing? He and Bokuto–

Bokuto!

That was it! Tetsurou cast his mind back, trying to remember in as much detail as possible the moment that Bokuto had confessed to Kenma. It had been in spring. The cherry blossoms had almost all fallen to make way for shiny leaves. Tetsurou had been setting up as many meetings as possible between Kenma and Bokuto for the last month and a half or so. It had been the end of the night, the sun was setting; Tetsurou remembered the way it had bathed the scene in a pinkish hue. Bokuto had, surprising everyone present (including himself, Tetsurou reflected), grabbed Kenma’s hands and said,

“Kozume-kun, you are very cute, and I like you a lot!”

Then he’d jumped back, embarrassed, and hid behind Tetsurou. Kenma had hidden his own red face in his hands… but had accepted the confession.

“Just say it,” Tetsurou mumbled to himself. He tried to picture the scene, to imagine Akaashi’s reaction, and his stomach clenched with nervous spasms. That sort of thing was easier said than done, and he had none of Bokuto’s reckless optimism to get him through. Still, he couldn’t quite stifle the nagging voice in the back of his mind that whispered, ‘this is the only way’.

By the time he went to sleep that night he had entirely convinced himself that he was going to confess to Akaashi tomorrow. The next morning, his conviction had completely evaporated. The cycle continued for longer than Tetsurou wanted to admit.

So long in fact, that Kenma completely ran out of patience for his moping and bolted himself up in his first year classroom one lunch hour. Tetsurou would have been stung by this abandonment, but a part of him realized how pathetic he was being. Kenma had only been trying to help. Tetsurou was the one who lacked conviction.

“Why are you so grouchy these days?” Yaku asked him as he slouched into the shorter boy’s classroom, unwilling to chase after Kenma, but equally reluctant to sit alone.

“Grouchy? Me? Never,” Tetsurou responded half heartedly, slumping into a vacant desk.

“Don’t lie to me,” Yaku jabbed him in the side aggressively.

“What can I say Yaks? I am a man unlucky in love.”

Yaku scowled at him, “You’re a man who’s about to get my fist in his face if you don’t stop whining and tell me what’s up.”

“I don’t know why I expected anything but sympathy from a savage such as y–“ As promised, Yaku’s fist in his face cut him off. The hit was gentler than usual though. When they first met, they’d fought like cats and, well, other angry cats, but there was hope for everyone.

“Is it a girl?” Yaku asked tiredly.

“No,” Tetsurou groaned.

“A boy?”

“You’re so perceptive.” This comment earned him another jab.

Yaku was silent for a few moments, then, “You’ve got it bad haven’t you." 

Tetsurou grunted in response.

“I haven’t seen you this torn up since,” he paused to think, “since me.”

“We don’t talk about that,” Tetsurou replied gloomily. It had been an awkward and thoroughly embarrassing time.

Yaku giggled. “You lived, and you’re fine now, so how hard can this one be?”

“Very hard.”

“I’m trying to comfort you, dumbass, at least try to act grateful,” Yaku grouched.

Tetsurou’s stomach twisted just a bit. Being in love was tough, but he really shouldn’t be treating his friends like this. “You’re right Yaks, I’m sorry–“

Yaku cut him off again, “Can’t you just confess to him and get this all over with?” 

Tetsurou struggled for words, “What if he says no?”

Yaku began to say something, but Tetsurou interrupted, “What if he says yes??”

The shorter boy sighed and ran his hand through his short hair. “First of all, in what world is him saying yes a bad thing?” He didn’t give Tetsurou a chance to answer but instead continued, “Second, you’re thinking too much about this. I can tell,” he gave Tetsurou a piercing look and waved a pencil at him. “You push yourself to do things too often, just let it happen.”

Before Tetsurou think of a decent reply, the bell rang. He settled on, “thanks Yaks, that was good advice.”

“And don’t call me Yaks,” Yaku yelled after him. 

“Thanks Yaks!” Tetsurou couldn’t resist calling back, narrowly dodging the teacher as he escaped back to his own classroom.

Over the next few days, it continued to get colder and colder and Tetsurou regularly woke up to a feather coating of frost on the bare branches of the trees in the neighbourhood. It was so cold that the air almost sang, ringing like a crisp bell as the sun rose, painting the frosty sidewalks pastel pink and magical. Tetsurou started to carry two pairs of gloves whenever he went anywhere, because despite Kenma’s quiet hatred of the cold, he always forgot to bring his own. It was something they’d been doing since the first winter they’d been friends.

This day, however, he woke up to a thin layer of snow that made the predawn world muffled and silent, even the few winter birds had postponed their song.

The walk to early morning volleyball practise was also silent. Kenma had ditched his game in favour of burrowing his hands deep into his pockets and his face into the enormous scarf (it was more blanket than scarf really) that Bokuto had found at a tiny consignment shop a week earlier and bought it (almost certainly without thinking) because it had a pattern of tiny grey owls dancing across it.

Tetsurou spent most of the morning only half listening to his teachers drone on about redox reactions (or at least they had probably been talking about redox reactions; he definitely hadn’t been paying enough attention to know) and gazing out the window at the snowy side of the gym building.

The text came during lunch hour. 

> From: Akaashi Keji
> 
> To: Kuroo Tetsurou
> 
> Are you free after volleyball practise today.

Tetsurou dropped the phone as if it had burnt him, the plastic case clattering on to his desk and drawing the attention of a few of his classmates. Tetsurou waved their inquisitive glances away picked the phone back up, trying to act like his face wasn’t suddenly far to warm.

He read the message again; just to make sure he hadn’t been seeing things. It remained unchanged. Was Akaashi asking him out? On a… date?

Nonsense! Tetsurou reminded himself. Akaashi doubtless still thought they were just friends, and it would simply be a fun, completely platonic, hang out. Hell, Bokuto might even be there.

A treacherous part of Tetsurou’s mind, which he was convinced existed solely so that he could, in some bizarre twist of fate, torment himself, reminded him that Akaashi rarely texted anyone. Even his own teammates only received short and extraordinarily business-like messages.  When he wanted to organise something, he always just told Bokuto, and let the wilder man pass it on to everyone else.

Actually receiving a text was uncharacteristic. Could it be that someone else had sent it to prank him?

But no, the message had Akaashi’s classic brusqueness and, as usual, incorrect punctuation. Akaashi never used any punctuation other than periods, and often put them in incorrect places as well. There was no doubt the message was his.

But how to respond… ‘Sure thing! I’d love to! What time?’ Nope. Way too enthusiastic. ‘When and where?’ No. Too distant, Akaashi would think he was uninterested.

Tetsurou continued to type and then delete messages for the rest of the period. He almost didn’t register the sound of the bell ringing, and, as the teacher entered the room, he shoved his phone away so hastily that he accidentally sent the most recent message draft.

> From: Kuroo Tetsurou
> 
> To: Akaashi Keiji
> 
> Sure thing. What time do you want to meet?

Shit shit shit. That was the worst. He was the worst. Tetsurou felt his stomach clenching. He’d messed up. The message sounded so eager. Akaashi would figure out his crush.

A mental voice that sounded suspiciously like Kenma piped up, ‘ _Isn’t that what you want?_ ’

No it was absolutely not what he wanted. He wasn’t really sure what he did want but it wasn’t that.

His phone vibrated once in his pocket. He eyed the room, but the teacher was absorbed in writing a long passage out on the board, chalk squeaking against the dusty surface. None of the other students were looking at him either.

He slid the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open under the cover of his desk.

> From: Akaashi Keji
> 
> To: Kuroo Tetsurou
> 
> 6:00pm at the convenience store. By Fukurodani.

Tetsurou took a deep breath and tried to remain calm as he tapped out a response.

 

> From: Kuroo Tetsurou
> 
> To: Akaashi Keiji
> 
> See you there.

He slipped the phone carefully back into his pocket, and it didn’t sound again for the rest of the afternoon.

He was consumed by jitters for the remainder of the school day.

At volleyball practise he missed most of his receives, and a good portion of his blocks as well, to the point that Yaku called him out on it.

“Is something bothering you,” he said, sidling up to Tetsurou during one of their few breaks. Tetsurou ignored him, but he did notice that from then on Yaku snickered quietly every time he messed up a receive, and Kenma started shooting him half worried half annoyed looks.

He couldn’t get to the train station fast enough, and bounced nervously for the entirely of the fifteen minute ride to the station closest to Fukurodani.

One stop away, he checked the pixelated clock on his phone’s screen. It was 5:57, and there were no new messages. Did that mean Akaashi had changed his mind? Had he decided just to go home instead? But he would have texted to cancel right? Tetsurou racked his brain. With that guy it could go either way. The digital clock ticked to 5:58. He was going to be late. What if Akaashi thought _he_ had decided not to come and left, disappointed, and never spoke to him again? Tetsurou was vaguely aware he was blowing the situation way out of proportion, but he couldn’t stop.

His train of thought was interrupted as they pulled into the station. Tetsurou elbowed his way out of the crowded train and practically sprinted the remaining few blocks to Fukuroudani and stood, panting, in front of the school gates. His breath billowed around his face in frosty white clouds, and the snow stuck to his shoes, making it hard to move as he slogged the final few steps up to the gate.

Wait.

Akaashi hadn’t said to meet at the school, had he? Tetsurou frantically scrolled through the phone messages. Crap. It had been a convenience store, not the school at all. He cast around, but saw only quiet houses, looking familiar yet strange. His body was cooling down after his mad dash, and he shivered, clutching the cell phone a bit tighter.

He had absolutely no idea where the convenience store was.

Why hadn’t he asked? He had been so panicked about getting the message in the first place that he’d completely forgotten to ask about the location. So dumb, he berated himself. He couldn’t text Akaashi now, admitting his stupidity this late in the game would be terrible. Wait, late! He struggled with the phone for a moment, fingers cramping with the cold. 6:03. Shit. He was late. Now Akaashi really–

“Hey hey hey!” A booming voice cut him off. It was Bokuto, emerging from around the side of the school flanked by two of his teammates, Konoha and… Komi was it? “Dude, what are you doing here?” Bokuto asked loudly, wiggling an eyebrow unsubtly at him.

Tetsurou didn’t reply and instead asked, “have you guys seen Akaashi?”

“Huh? Akaashi?” Bokuto asked, confusion overtaking his features.

“He left about five minutes ago,” the one probably called Komi said.

“And in quite a hurry too,” Konoha completed the sentence, then his pale blond eyebrows knitted together, “Wait… Are you two going on a date?” An enormous grin covered his face.

“Dude you’re bright red!” Bokuto exclaimed, almost jumping up and down in excitement. The other two were snickering as well.

Tetsurou tried not to look to embarrassed, and failed miserably. “Look, I just need to know where the nearest convenience store is.”

“A convenience store date,” Konoha said critically, “is that all you’ve got?”

Tetsurou shuffled uncomfortably, torn between wanting to get to Akaashi as soon as possible, and actually staying and finding out the location.

“Akaashi had been totally antsy this afternoon,” Bokuto exclaimed, obviously not following the conversation.

The statement and its implications barely registered, and Tetsurou gave probably Komi a slightly desperate look.

“It’s around that corner,” he said, indicating one of the nearby streets, “about half a block down. You can’t miss it.”

Tetsurou was already running “Thanks!” he yelled back at them.

“Huh,” said Konoha.

“Huh,” agreed Komi.

“Huh?” Bokuto looked at them, confused.

Akaashi was outside the convenience store when Tetsurou bounded up. The shorter boy was wrapped up in a big dark blue scarf that made his eyes seem larger and deeper than usual. He was cradling a cardboard cup of something in both hands and the steam that floated out of its open lid swirled around his pale face, cheeks red with the cold.

It took Tetsurou’s breath away and he could only pant, trying to get his voice back, for a few awkward minutes.

It was Akaashi who broke the silence. “Would you like something to drink Kuroo-san?” he asked quietly.

“Sure,” Tetsurou responded breathlessly.

Akaashi watched him with deep blue eyes as he filled a small travel cup with steaming hot chocolate and then paid for it at the register. Tetsurou could feel the other boy’s eyes on him as they sat outside, on a bench that had been saved from the snow by the large eaves on the store.

Tetsurou tried to think of something to say. Should he confess now? He probably wouldn’t get another moment along with Akaashi for a while. Should he wait for a better time?

As he debated with himself, the sun began to sink below the buildings along the skyline, and bathed them with an orange glow. The colour reflected off of the snow, filling the scene with light that was both warm and cold at once.

“Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said suddenly, and when Tetsurou turned to look at him he was staring off in the direction of the sunset, travel cup lying forgotten in his gloved hands. “I have something to tell you.”

Tetsurou tried to respond, but his tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his dry mouth, silencing him. He took a gulp of hot chocolate instead, hissing as it burnt his tongue.

Akaashi looked at him, and then looked down just as quickly. Was he blushing, or was it just a trick of the light?

“I, err” he began. That was odd; Tetsurou had never heard Akaashi stumble over words before. “I have thought about you a lot since I met you, errr, and…” he trailed off.

Tetsurou felt like his mind had short-circuited. It was full of fluff. What was Akaashi saying? What did he mean?

“And I really enjoy spending time with you,” Akaashi continued, “and, ummm, I think I like you?” He said it like a question, giving the cup in his hands a hard stare. He was definitely blushing now.

“You like… me?” Tetsurou asked, and immediately felt stupid for saying it.

Akaashi fidgeted. “Yes, and…” he trailed off and took a deep breath as is if steeling himself, “and if it’s okay with you, I want to ask you to be my boyfriend.”

Tetsurou gaped for a moment, then, with a conscious effort, he shut is mouth.

“O-only if you’re okay with it,” Akaashi added, stammering and looking very red.

He’s so cute, Kuroo found himself thinking. His face was hot, and so was the hot chocolate in his hands. The scene was orange and magical and Akaashi Keiji had just asked him out. He felt like he was floating.

“Yes,” Tetsurou said, “I’d love that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed it. It's my first time writing Akaashi (although I enjoy writing Kuroo a lot).
> 
> Shoot me an ask or a chat at [my blog](http://www.h0pe-y.tumblr.com) to talk hq!!, dogs of any size, or pew pew guns.
> 
> If you liked this, don't hesitate to comment. I love feedback, and even if you simply allow your cat to walk over your keyboard and then post the results, it will be greatly appreciated.


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